


Angel's Song

by LegolasLovely



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothers, Prompt Fill, Shapeshifting, WinterFRE2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22600369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: Prompt 44: Shapeshifting
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: GatheringFiKi - Winter FRE 2020





	Angel's Song

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out the gorgeous photoset by mysticalbarbariancreation (on tumblr). Link [here!](https://mysticalbarbariancreation.tumblr.com/post/617000831500369920/and-the-prize-goes-to-wonderful-legolaslovely-and)

At first, Fili thought he was imagining it. 

He turned the old truck onto the estate and immediately swatted at the volume dial on the console, silencing his ‘rebel music,’ as his uncle would call it. It was second nature for him to run a hand through his knotted waves, choke himself with the top buttons of his shirt, and slow to a crawl as he drove through the gates near the house that was more like a mansion, that was more like a castle. He did it today, even when he knew his uncle wouldn’t be there- would never be there again. His uncle was dead.

This was his duty now- to check on the house-mansion-castle, to clean it up and decide whether to keep it or sell it or whatever else you did with this kind of thing. He’d never leave it to his mother because he didn’t like to remind her of what was left. That where it used to be five, it was only two. Their family had dwindled like rotting flowers instead of actual, real live beings. 

So as the truck defiantly growled through the sentient drive, Fili ducked his head to check all the curtains, windows and doors had remained in the state he’d left them in the week before. The rusted steed lurched and settled and he leapt out and jogged up the steps. He reached for the large stone knocker before him, like he expected someone to answer and invite him in for tea and insults. He dug in his pocket for the large, silver key. It stuck and needed a wiggle. As he stepped in and closed the door behind him, Fili thought he should have brought the tools to replace it, but then again, if he sold the house-mansion-castle, the new owners would have to change the locks anyway.

The entryway was no less stuffy than it was when his uncle was actually living in the house. A crack in one of the curtains allowed sunlight to peek through and dance with the dust that flew through the air as Fili walked through to the drawing room. His finger collected a grey petal of dust as he ran it along a table and he felt a twinge of satisfaction. In their youth, he and his brother would leave pieces of cheese in corners or windowsills, hoping it would sit and rot and smell and drive their uncle mad. They never succeeded, but now Fili felt some sense of achievement in his small inside joke.

“I’ll bring a rag next time,” he said out loud to no one but the rafters. 

That was when he heard it. It was soft and distant. He thought the familiar walls were teasing his ears. He should move about, chase the sound, find the answers to the questions filling his head, but his senses were clouded by teeming and swelling waves of peace. He should not feel calm at the idea of a stranger living in this supposedly empty house-mansion-castle, but the trills and purrs created the most serene song. It was a piano. It was safety and comfort. It was his brother.

His feet took on roots as he listened. This was the song only Kili could play- the singular tune he would play over and over until Fili begged him to stop and took him in his arms and carried him far away from the instrument. Kili would cackle and kick and tickle, sometimes he’d cry and plead, “Fi, please let me play more.” Fili would always allow it.

In their mother’s or uncle’s presence, Kili would play impressive and popular arias. He practiced daily to make his tutors proud and to win competitions and scholarships. Kili would oblige his friends and family with their favorite pieces at suppers and parties, but Fili was the only person trusted with this beloved, simple song of Kili’s.

The melody rose and Fili’s phantom boots carried him across the floor and up the stairs. Waving keys and chromatics tickled the walls and echoed through the corridor as Fili’s fingers grasped the banister as if he’d float away with the music if he let go. He passed his uncle’s library where he and his brother would hide from their tutors, the double sided bedroom they shared when they stayed for an overnight visit, the upper drawing room where they’d build a fire for their mother and take tea in the afternoons. His loud, thunking work boots were feathers that whispered across the old hardwood as he crept closer to his destination, terrified of breaking the magic this must be.

He stood in the doorway. Trembling fingers gripped the wooden frame before his knees turned to soft, dry sand. Through bleary eyes, he could just see a set of shoulders, more slender than his own but strong and thick, leaning in and out with the wave of the music. Dark hair fell over his shoulders and Fili longed to see the eyes that matched but he wouldn’t dare distract this angel from his song. What else could he be?

The piece was ending. Fili knew it and he couldn’t stop it. Long fingers peeked to the left, pressing the yellowed keys of the lower register in a slow tempo and a soft volume. Scales rolled and resolved, the last notes hung in the room like a fog until the pedal lifted. Fili had never experienced this kind of silence. He wanted it to last, needed it to last, but he just had to-

“Kili?”

Fingers left the keys and the old bench creaked as the solid figure turned. He smiled brilliantly. “Hi, Fi.”

Fili blinked a tear from his eyes and then all that remained of his brother was a bird- small and strong and dazzling as it flew out the open window and into the bright day.


End file.
